Just like Diamonds
by Falli
Summary: It was a rainy night just like any other, until Shadow himself had stumbled upon something he had not expected. Sonadow, rated for teen due to mild blood and swearing.
1. Prologue

At about somewhere accompanied to midnight, I had stopped by a small but comfy coffee shop, the scent of ground coffee nuts just wafting from the store. It drug me in just of the smell, and my coffee addiction that had developed over the years.

The door creakily came open. My lips tugged to the side in annoyance. The doors needed to be oiled down. Badly.

I looked a bit scruffy, and wet, due to the harsh rain outside. My usually vibrant red streaks were much darker, almost blood shaded, and the perky spikes started to droop under the extra weight of water.

Not that I cared anyway. I didn't have an umbrella at the moment, so the people who were neat fanatics could shove it right now.

Walking in with an irritating squeak to my boots, which left small puddles of water, I made my way to the front of the cozy little store, sat on a red stool, which, was nailed to the ground(go figure), and swerved in it. I looked straight at the man at the counter, a dog of some breed, wearing an apron, a really big apron, with a red stripped white shirt and blue slacks. It reminded me of those old vocal singers in a barber shop, hold the huge apron.

And I could have sworn he'd shivered under the gaze I had him in. Yes, red eyes were unnatural, but I don't give a flying fuck.

"I'll have one regular, strong and black," I ordered in a bored manner, resting my chin on one hand, and a finger in the air with another.

He blinked for a moment, then another, like he wasn't expecting and order out of me like I was just going to sit there for the hell of it. Then he slowly walked off to the coffee maker machine.

I dragged my attention away from the dog, and looked around the store in boredom. I had been here before, a couple of times actually, and it seemed like there was a different employee here every time I visited. Because, last time I visited here, there was a lizard, male, short, and grumpy, rather then a dog that looked like he was in collage. Before that, it was a bat, really tall, female bat, with a good couple of visible scars decorated onto her skin. And a severed arm.

I could have sworn her glare could kill if it was possible.

About a minute later, a cup of Jo' was set in front of me with a loud clunk. Seemed like the college kid was in a hurry, because the cup spilled over a bit, dribbling the hot liquid over my arm. I grit my teeth together, trying like hell to suck up the pain and not hiss. Apparently the dumbass even forgot to pull on a top for the damned cup.

I raised my hand in an irritated matter. Five seconds later, the mutt came back, arching a brow.

"A cover would be pleasant, if you will," I grumped. I must've had some sort of murderous glint in my eye, 'cause he was running pretty damn fast. Or he was still just in a rush to get the hell out of the overly cozy shop. Geez, he was even worse then the bat.

Taking up the now lidded coffee, I got up and exited the shop. The door gave off its squeaky sound, like it was trying to say good-bye (as if).

The rain was still pouring down as if the world was in dire need of it. This was probably the reason why I didn't try to drink from my coffee yet, 'cause the rain would pour in it. Watered down coffee looked like and tasted like shit.

And right before I decided I'd get on my motorcycle, I had noticed there was a great big blue lump at the side of the shop where there were no windows.

No people were in sight.

On a closer inspection, it was actually a person. Well, rather then a person, a hedgehog.


	2. Emerald

Apparently, the cozy coffee shop didn't seem so cozy to me anymore.

There was either a dead man or an unconscious one on the side of the shop, and since it didn't look like there was too much blood pouring out of this guy, I assumed he was probably just beaten until out cold.

Hopefully.

Where the skin decided to show, it was pale and blotchy, cut in some places, bruised to a yellowish or purple in others. He seemed to look sleep deprived due to the large bags under his eyes, and the creases looked deep right under those bags.

I sat down on my already soaked, baggy brown shorts, and decided to investigate further.

He was laying half way on his side, half way on his stomach. I gripped his shoulder to put him in a different position, having him sit up, putting his back to the drenched brick wall. Blue mixed with red, giving off the illusion that his blood was more of a purple rather then a crimson it truly was. Any normal person would have hurled up their dinner when they had seen the wound on the side of his left cheek. It looked like someone drug his face along the concrete roads for about 5 minutes.

And I kind of wasn't a normal person. I'd seen this sort of stuff before. On a zombie from one of those crappy horror movies.

I glanced at the coffee cup that was still in my right hand. Then back at the brutally beaten male next to me.

What clicked in my mind at first was to chug down the coffee, then pick this guy up, clean him in the coffee shop's bathroom (if the shop had one), then call the hospital, and go home like nothing happened. Till I decided to check the guy's pockets if he still had his wallet.

He didn't. I should have figured. He'd been mugged for his wallet of course. I knew he would not be able to pay for the hospital expenses, and neither could I. I had a hard time enough trying to pay off the bills for my apartment. I didn't need anymore debt.

But leaving him here just didn't _feel _right, and sitting in the rain like this didn't help with his condition, or mine.

My first plan didn't sound logical or smart to me anymore. Because one, walking into a shop with a body over your shoulder would cause too much screaming and stares from the people who saw, two, by the time I had got to the bathroom, someone would have called the police by then and I'd have the cops on my ass. Which would not be a pleasant third time experience since the two other times weren't so great.

So. Do I slap him awake and drag him to my apartment and clean him there or lug him on my back and shove him on my motorcycle to my apartment and let him soak up the shock there, and offer my now cold coffee?

Ha. The first choice sounded too troubling, and the second one made me seem to think like a kidnapper. But I liked the second choice better, kidnapping or not. So I went with that, slowly pulling up the blue hedgehog front the chillingly cold and hard ground. He stirred slightly, and I flinched.

And then he went motionless again. I exhaled and continued to pull him on my back into a piggy ride position. It was the best I could think of, since I was almost in panic mode, and he was practically stone cold, but alive amazingly. Standing up, I sluggishly walked over to my motor cycle, plopping on it with practiced ease. Brown leather gloves grazed themselves almost instinctively onto the handle bars. Then I blinked for a moment, turning the key to turn it on, the purr of the motor immediately sounding into my ears.

Mmm, beautiful. Almost just like music.

* * *

The guy wasn't too heavy, just irritatingly heavy.

About half way up to my apartment steps, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. Stopping abruptly on the creaky wooden step I stood on, I looked up, since I had been staring at the steps I had been climbing slowly.

I was right. There were a pair of eyes staring at me. The owner of those eyes had crossed her arms with an arching brow. A curious cat. How ironic.

Her ice blue eyes had a questioning look to them, and a suspicious one. I didn't blame her for being suspicious. Even her tail flicked back and forth. I had guessed she was also annoyed that I was soaking wet. She acted like a mother sometimes. Even if she was younger then me.

I blinked, giving back the glare she was giving me. Even if it was a worried-curious-suspicious glare.

I looked back down, continuing my climb, and when I had gotten to the top, Mandy, my apartment neighbor, spoke up.

"And precisely why are you carrying a..." she paused to lean back and look at the blue mush you would call a male hedgehog, "guy on your back? He looks like he's been through a shredder."

I ground my molars together in annoyance. "Can I explain _after_ I clean him up?"

The green cat paused, tapping an onyx claw to her lip. Her eyes clicked to the blue thing. "Whatever," she answered, flipping a black hand into the air.

I turned to my apartment door with a white two-O'-three printed on it in big, bold numbers. I had been living in the same, mildly roomy apartment for the past five years during my thirty-two life span. It wasn't too small, nor was it too big. I liked that.

I was going to reach for my keys, but both hands were occupied with holding up a probably-maybe 150 pound man. So I glanced toward my neighbor. She was still standing there, I figured she was still there. She always did that when she was expecting an answer out of someone.

And she was staring straight at me. I motioned my head for her to come over, and she complied.

"Could you uh, unlock my door for me?"

"Nhm." She fished out the keys out of my left pocket, shoved it into the lock in a rather rushed, loud motion. My eye twitched at the noisy action. She opened the door.

I gave her a questioning look.

She simply motioned her arms as if to say, 'maniacs first.'

I smirked, snorting at her sense of humor. It really was bad at times. Like now. She'd followed right behind me though. It did take about two people to treat one horribly abused and beaten man.

I walked over to the couch, the cat still following. It also took two people to get an abused and beaten man onto a couch without dropping him.

She stood behind me, her tiny hands right under the guy's bum. I slowly started to let my hands go of him, leaning back, starting to feel the weight ease off.

Mandy had taken the weight of the hedgehog's torso, while I kept my grip on his legs, settling him down on the couch gently.

I turned around to see her looking at me expectantly.

"Not yet." I turned around to head toward the bathroom for the first aid kit.

And even from there I could hear her huff. I laughed quietly to myself, walking back with the white and red box. The plus sign was kind of faded though.

Plopping the box on the coffee table with a _clunk_, I opened it, handing Mandy the gauze, I pulled out a spool of string and a needle. Unfortunately, there were some wounds on him that needed some stitching.

Seeing that, Mandy spoke up again. "Can't you at least explain to me _while_ you're bandaging him up?" she asked in a stern tone. It wasn't whiney, it was more of a matter-of-fact tone.

I was about to retort back, opening my mouth, then I paused. Stitching was a long procedure, and I had known her long enough to know what she didn't have the greatest of patience. She could wait 20 minutes, yeah, but this guy had a whole lot of cuts on him. "...Fine," I finally answered.

I got a smirk out of her.

"Shall I start from the beginning or somewhere around the middle to save your brain from overload?" I asked sarcastically.

The green, black, and white cat rolled her ice blue eyes, short brown hair shifting back as she tilted her head back, just to exaggerate the eye rolling. "Start from the beginning, dip shit," she smiled with humor in her expression.

I pulled the thread through the needle's hole, tying it there. "You know that coffee shop on main street, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Where I usually get coffee?"

"Yes, dumbo. You should change clothes you know."

I looked up from the needle, then up at Mandy. My gaze immediately shot down at my clothing. Yep, still soaked. Then something clicked. If I was soaked then...

My eyes slowly looked over at the other hedgehog. His clothes were soaked. It was odd that he wasn't shaking by now. I had simply just forgot because I was used to being soaked like this. I got up, put the 'sowing equipment' down on the little table.

"Should I...?" I had pointed at him.

"Yeah," she answered.

I blinked, then started pulling off the shirt, then the pants. I was thankful his boxers (which were decorated in rings) were somewhat dry. I honestly didn't want to pull those off.

I tossed the wet clothing over one forearm like some fancy table waiter you'd see in high class restaurants, and walked to my bed room. About a minute later, I had a towel tousled over my quills, and then some of my folded clothes in my arms walking out of my room.

By then, Mandy was sitting in the old, creaky brown recliner, looking like her patience had run out the door and into the streets.

I could have laughed, but I had done that enough tonight to spit in disgust. So instead, I plopped the clothing on the little table along with the rest of the junk on there, picked up the thread and needle again and started to pull the needle through his skin.

Immediately, his eyes shot open with a loud, "Ow!"

Right there and then, I had realized I had forgot to apply any numbing medicine to his wounds, and he was wide awake too.

Shit.


	3. Ruby

My eyes slowly crept their way over to the snickering cat in the creaky, brown chair. She could have been a sadist, laughing at the pain of the young stranger that was on my almost agonizingly stiff blue couch. But she was probably laughing at his bewildered expression instead.

I would have been snickering too, if I wasn't glaring at the female while she was holding a black hand over a white muzzle. Well, technically her mouth.

I was a shitty doctor, I knew that, but did she really just, have to make fun of me about it?

But apparently the glare had just worsened her giggle fit, since the snicker evolved into a giggle. She even started hunching over.

"Uh."

But my attention swerved back the blue stranger, to the cat's luck.

"Excuse... Me?" His voice had gone from confident to nervous in half a second. Must've been my eyes, because the second I had my look on him, he paused when he locked with my eyes, then went squeaky a second later.

"Yeah, kid?" I kinda needed a shave too, running an already rough pad from one of my fingers on my sandpaper for a beard. My leather gloves were fingerless.

His gaze wandered to the cat behind me, then around the room, soaking up information through his eyes, which were an unnaturally vibrant. After that he decided to answer me. "Why... Why on earth am I here, when I should be in a hospital?"

Oh go figure. He decides to ask one of _those_ questions. While he was asking that, he should have been asking who I was, like a normal person."Well, your wallet's missing."

He looked down to check his pockets, but all that was there was obviously his boxers. Then he looked back up at me, which rapidly turned to the cat, again. It was like he as trying to tell me he was avoiding my eyes. He licked his lips out of nervousness too.

Well, gee, I wasn't that scary looking, was I? Last time I checked, I was only mildly scary.

After about a minute of soaking up the shock like a sponge, _then _he decides to ask the logical question. "Who are you, and who is she?" he'd asked, sitting up rather slowly.

"Shadow Gremen," I had answered plainly.

"And her?"

"Mandy Emes, Hun," she had said, introducing herself.

To me, this seemed all too friendly, and he was probably trying to take it in as slowly as possible. I didn't blame him. In fact, I would have punched the first person I looked at when I had woke up in such a situation.

I wasn't much of a people person.

"Oh, I guess it's... Kinda nice to meet you two, I guess."

"Mhm. Nice to meet you too," I said back sarcastically. I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but the needle from before was still stuck half way into his arm. He must've been some idiot not to notice. "Can I finish the stitching now?"

"Oh! Uh. Oh god. Yeah, you can."

I chuckled a little. Any numbing medicine was kind of useless at the moment, 'cause once the needle was in, you didn't just yank it back out from where it once came in. You'd be an idiot to do that. It was also hard as fuck to put anything around that needle. So he'd just have to live with the extra pain. Or I could just grab some pain killers, but where was the fun in that?

I had practically almost laughed at the cringing when he's saw the needle slowly come out the other side of his skin. After about the sixth time, he'd gotten used to it. This kid had a good ounce of innocence still in him, and he looked like he was sixteen or seventeen. Must be one pampered fucker, no wonder her got mugged. He probably looked like some rich kid if he clothes weren't all torn up along with the rest of his body.

After about five minutes of this, he decided to look away for his own sanity to stay in check, sucking in his bottom lip, biting on it due to the pain.

Boy was this kid having a bad day. The next thing I would have predicted was to see this kid's face on the ten O' clock news reported as missing.

"Hey," he said out of no where, still looking at the same direction for the past ten minutes. The silence must've gotten to him.

"Mm?" I tugged another complete stitch into his skin.

"Why'd you pick me up anyway?"

Stupidest question I had to hear out of him yet. I stopped at mid-stitch and looked at his still turned face, and that was starting to irritate me.

"Well you tell me, if you saw a guy laying on the side of an oh so cozy coffee shop with a small puddle of blood under him, what would you do?"

"... Good point."

I took my attention from the side of his head back to the halfway stitched wound, and continued with my work. It was kind of odd that he was cold as stone a minute ago, and then suddenly gotten hot to the touch. I arched a brow at that, stopped again, then tried to look at his face from the front rather then the side I was seeing at the moment, with no success to my attempt.

After that, I was stitching him up for about an hour in silence. Mandy had left the living room and onto my laptop when about 20 minutes of that hour had passed, placing the gauze on the coffee table.

I had let him pass out in my bed for the night. By the time I was done patching him up, it was two in the morning, he still has those horrible bags under his eyes, and that couch wasn't very comfortable. Mandy had gotten back to her own apartment by then.

She would have settled for an explanation tomorrow.

By the time I had plopped down on the couch, I had realized I didn't even know the kid's name.


	4. Lead

I had woken up at one in the afternoon the next day. My unexpected (and nameless) guest was no where to be seen, so I assumed he was still passed out. I should have figured. He didn't look like the type to be an early bird to me. Neither was I, but that was obvious.

When I got up, I took note that there was blood stained into the cushions, and apparently some of it was still wet enough to stick on my fur, since it came flaking off of me like snow from a cloud during December.

I grimaced at that and took note to take a shower after I got done with shaving.

I yawned deeply, stretching my arms up high, almost touching the ceiling, but if I wanted to do that, I would have just gotten on my tip toes, spread my fingers apart, and try like hell to. But I knew I was just half an inch too short.

I walked to the bathroom, floor boards creaking and complaining when I had stepped on a couple of the old ones. Pulling out the shaving cream and spraying it's light blue foam on my face, I picked up the razor blade, and started shaving. It was a two day routine for me.

For about two minutes, the shower would have to wait. I wanted to check on the kid, so I walked back out of the bathroom, heading straight for my bedroom. Opening the door, I saw the blue kid sitting up, staring at any furniture that looked to appeal to him, which right now was my dresser.

Scratch two minutes, I had a fuck load of questions for this kid.

"Hey."

His head turned to me so fast it looked like it almost hurt. He blinked at me, waiting for anything else to come out of my mouth. Like a bug of some sort.

'Cept instead of a bug, they were words. "Breakfast?"

It took him almost 30 seconds to figure out that _one_ word I had just said, and then answer.

"... Yeah."

"Will cereal do?"

"Depends. Whaddya got?"

I picked my teeth with the claw in my pinky. "Cheerio's."

"Yeah, that'll do."

"Hn." I walked out of the doorway and into the kitchen, grabbing two white bowls and the medium sized box of Cheerio's that normally had it's spot on top of the fridge, plopping them on the small wooden table that had sat right almost next to my bed room door, but in front of the kitchen. Four chairs surrounded it.

By then, the kid was sitting in one of those chairs. "Pour in as much as you want," I said, then walked back into the kitchen for the milk and spoons.

Walking back, the blue kid was popping bits of cereal into his mouth. I handed one of the spoons to him. His fingers was almost covered in Band-Aids and his knuckles where bruised just like the rest of him. Must've put up a good fight. Not good enough though, obviously. Not enough fighting experience, I figured.

He poured in a good ounce of milk in. At least he still had his appetite.

My bowl was completely empty, save for the air that was floating in it. I knew I wasn't going to be eating anything for now. When I wanted to talk, I never take any bites until I'm finished. "Kid, you never told me your name."

His eyes automatically readjusted themselves from looking down at the spoon and somewhere that was near my head. I could get the first couple of times this occurred, but for this long for him just to adjust, there was sure as hell some shit going on.

"It's uh, Sonic."

But at least I had a name to call him by. "Alright. What on earth were you doing out at midnight, by a coffee shop?"

"...Why do you want to know?" he asked suspiciously, squinting his eyes at whatever object that was behind me.

"Well," I started, checking my claws over, "it'd be nice to know what situation you're in, rather then the fact that you're flat out broke and ripped up," I finished in an almost matter-of-fact tone.

Sonic bit down on his lip, small folds of pale, pink and purplish skin coming together under the biting force. He took two minutes to think it over. I honestly thought he wasn't going to answer at all. Since, after all, I was a complete stranger to him.

A complete stranger who saved his sorry ass, not to gloat or anything.

"I was..." he took in a deep breath, almost dramatically, then continued, "Running away from home."

Well, that was something I wasn't expecting. Not the fact that it was a short reply, but the reason in it.

"Because...?"

This time, he started chewing on the left corner of his lip. "Because of my religion."

Well that made no sense. "Religion? Explain a little more."

He chewed on his lip some more. It was red by now. "Uh... I'm Christian, but dad... Sorta, kinda found out that I was a ... G... Gay one."

Oh, well that was nice to know that you picked up a homosexual off of a not so cozy coffee shop on a Saturday (technically Sunday morning) night. Yeah, real nice.

Not that I cared that he was gay, just rather have one five feet away, not trying to screw my ass over. I've dealt with enough of those at the bar I work at. Since I'm a bar tender, and drunks tip very well, so I could deal with a flirting gay or two that had one too many shots. They were pretty funny to listen to after a while, if they weren't trying to pull out an eye of an also drunk, but bitchy female.

But that sort of incident only happened once, thankfully.

"Mhm. Your dad start bitching at you for being gay or something?" I asked, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, black and red elbow on the table.

"Wh-no! He just, didn't treat me the same afterwords."

"Mhmmmm..."

"Like he'd send be glares from across the dinner table, the room, or just stare at me for long periods of time..." he looked down at his bowl. He was probably feeling the dense atmosphere of my stare get to him. For a gay, he didn't really have much nerve, or a back bone.

"And you ran away from home because of that?" There was a good ounce of sarcasm in there, a little bit of questioning, and some pity.

"It wasn't the only thing, thank you," he hissed, rapidly looking at me in the eye for once, but that only lasted for about 10 seconds if even.

Ha, like those words burned me any. At least he had some bone to him. "Then continue," I motioned my hand to let him start again.

"He didn't talk to me the same like before, and mom started to do the same thing after about a month."

So his parents were a bit judgmental. Last time I checked, I grew up with a trigger happy father with a booze scented breath 24/7. I didn't turn out too right, but right enough to have some common sense and some thick bones that didn't snap in two over a small problem. If I screwed up on something, he'd nag at me till the insides of my ears turned red. If I did it again, it was an almost skull smashing whop to the head that left a headache that stayed for days.

So maybe his problem wasn't exactly small. Religion is normally a big part of a person's life, but I never had one. Dad didn't believe in such "poppy cock of a tale". He didn't really seem the type to care for it. After about living 17 years in that house with the same man, neither did I, and I still don't.

"Mhm. So due to conversational issues and slightly harsh body language, you ran away?" I questioned, crossing my arms and arching a brow.

"... Yeah."

"You don't look the type."

"So?"

"How the hell were you raised anyway?"

"Well, how were _you_ raised?" he asked out of the blue, going for a scoop of soggy Cheerio's.

I snorted at that, deciding to lie. "Well, whenever I screwed up on something particularly, dad would take a beer bottle and smashed it up against my head," I half lied. He actually did that once. It hurt like hell, and there was even a little bit of blood to go with it.

It was on the first time I had brought home some cops with me. I had a slight drug history while being underaged at the time. The cops decided to finally pick up on it.

He started coughing up his chewed up cereal, due to shock I figured, looking at me while wiping off some milk that had leaked out of his mouth. The spoon clinked into the bowl. He sat up straight, giving me his full attention now. "... What about your mom then?"

"I had a mom, up until she died when I was seven," I said almost too bluntly. There was some sadness in there, but I highly doubted he'd sense it.

But apparently he did. "Oh," he had said, biting his lip again. Must've been a habit of his.

"So how long do you plan on running away from your home?"

"That... Place isn't my home, and I don't want to go back. Ever." His line of sight went to the right, angrily staring at some random object in my kitchen.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "And you plan living _where_ exactly?"

He went back to that lip biting shit again. That random object, excuse me, _toaster_ must've been pretty interesting. "I haven't planned that far yet."

"Then you're not a very smart kid."

"Shut up."

"Nah, I think I'll keep on talking. If you're not planning on living anywhere, then you might as well go b-"

"I said I wasn't going back."

"Then where are you gonna live?"

He took in a long, irritated breath. "I don't know yet, okay?"

"Mhm."

There was a knock on the door. I got up to open it, since it was just about two steps from the table to the door. The old thing came open with some difficulty. I should have figured that she'd come around of coming by today, just not so early. Well okay, maybe not early, but soon.

"'Ey," she greeted, calmly lifting up a hand.

I silently stepped away from the door a couple steps to let the cat in, and she slowly followed in the movement, closing the door behind her. Looks like it was posing day, since there was her sketch book in one of her arms. Mandy was an artist in training, and on some days, she'd have me pose on furniture or stand for who knows how many hours. On some days when her mind had decided to get _real_ creative, she'd have me pose nude.

Hopefully it wasn't going to be one of _those_ days.

"And what'll it be today, ma'am?" I asked sarcastically, frowning at the sketch book.

She smirked, pointing at the blue boy sitting at the table with her thumb. Sonic immediately looked up when he was about to be mentioned. "Well, if the kid's gonna comply with this, I'm gonna have the two of you to sit on the couch for me."

"And?" I asked, knowing that wasn't all she was planning.

"Well," she started, staring up at the bumpy ceiling, "I figure if you'd agree to it, have him on you while laying on the couch."

That was probably the second time I heard a spoon clink today, and both heads swerved to the kid in question.

Again, Mandy started up her giggle fit due to some _oh so funny_ expression he had on his face. Which was a shocked one I might add.

I turned back to Mandy about 3 seconds later. "It could be worse. I honestly don't care. It's just a matter of him agreeing to this."

Her giggle fit stopped quickly after it started, and she had put a thoughtful hand to her chin. "True."

"... Can I finish _before_ I decide?" said Sonic.

"Sure."

"Can I take a shower before we start this?" I asked.

She arched a brow at me. "Please do that."

"Thanks," I said, leaving for the shower. I needed it, after all, today was going to be a long day.


	5. Metal

If there wasn't a kid in the middle of my living room, I would've walked out naked without a care, but since there was, I kept a towel almost circulation cutting tight around my waist.

I figured he was a virgin. He acted like one, since he acted like the bitch stick shoved up half way up his ass. Kid needed to get laid or something.

But of _course_ a towel around the waist didn't make a difference. He freaked out anyway. If I could have sworn, he hadn't even watched porn either, since he flinched at the first sight of a halfway naked body, mine no less.

"Wh-did you not even get any clothes before you went in?" he almost yelled, balling up his hands into tight fists.

"I didn't think I had to. It is my home, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but what about then you have guests over?" he motioned one hand to mean him, and the other to mean Mandy.

"She's seen me nude before," I threw out there almost plainly, with some amusement.

He paused for a moment. Then he placed a hand to his mouth, looking shocked. "Don't tell you two d-"

"No. For one, Mandys' bi. She'd rather be screwing over a gi-"

"Okay, that's enough out of your black mouth for one day," Mandy said almost sarcastically, since my mouth was technically brown. Sorta.

"Hey, kid's gotta know what people he's dealing with, right?"

Mandy rolled her eyes at me like usual. "I'd think he'd know by now, you dumb fuck."

I chuckled lightly.

"Now go put on some clothes, I don't think the kid wants to be resting on an almost naked body."

"Aw, you sure you don't want me to go nude today?" I teased, playing around with the towel that was still around my waist.

"Clothes. Now. Before he gets a nose bleed."

"All right, all right," I said, defeated, while raising both hands in defense of the irritated feline. She may be green, but she had one hell of a temper. I walked into the bedroom, and out of the bedroom a minute later, popping back out with just some jeans on. Due to chest fluff, I didn't really enjoy wearing shirts at all, since they tugged almost painfully on that tuft.

And by then, Mandy had a wooden stool pulled out and sketch book ready and willing. Although, it was more of a need to her then a want.

I had pulled out an old, thin yellow bed sheet that I hadn't used in years, and when Mandy saw it, she had this questioning look that said, 'the hell?' Quite well.

"The blood?"

"Oh. Right," she smirked, probably feeling a tad bit stupid for forgetting quite a large detail.

I turned to Sonic, since he had stood in one spot for the past five minutes, looking almost antsy, fidgety, like he didn't enjoy standing in one spot for a certain amount of time, let alone one minute.

"Well?"

He suddenly looked up at me, or rather something behind me, heaven forbid, looking somewhat confused. "Well, what?"

"Have you agreed?"

He bit his bottom lip _again _(must have been a habit), then answered, "Yeah."

With that confirmation, I grasped the yellow thing and then lied it down on the couch, watching it just ever so slowly flutter right on. It had no holes, thankfully.

And since that simple movement was like a game-set-match for Mandy, she immediately got up, some floor boards complaining under the weight. Even if it wasn't much, since she was probably one of the most skinniest people I had ever met, Sonic being in close second. The kid wasn't exactly light though, that much I knew.

For every sketch, there was also a pose, or so Mandy had told me the first time she came over for this sort of thing. Said it created a certain mood if you adjusted it just right. After a while of this, she'd let me see them, and I would believe that statement. So she positioned me herself, telling me to lower an arm there, turn my head in some different angle. Kind of like how photographers did in schools for year photos of all the students there, except for the fact that she took 30 minutes at most just to do so, since I 'moved' too much for her tastes. With two people, who knew how long she'd take till satisfied?

The bespectacled cat had plopped her book and pencil onto the stool, stood next to the couch, and motioned her hand for me to come over, which I complied like usual. She had picked up a pillow and placed it at the arm of the couch. I figured that was where my head was going to be resting for the next couple of hours.

"Lay down, if you would."

But at least it was going to be a comfortable position, or at least I hoped so. So I laid down. Easy enough, right?

Then she motioned her hand for Sonic to come over. This was the first time she had me pose with another person, so who knew what she had in mind.

He walked over, looking sort of nervous.

I guess I would be too, sorta.

"Lay on top of him, belly to belly, and please, don't chicken out on me."

He bit his lip, but did just that, reluctantly. Heh. Pure pressure from a scary cat could horrify anyone.

At first, he felt almost deathly cold, like a reptile. Just a furry one, and that wasn't normal in my opinion. His skin was still blotchy, pale like before, and now that I had noticed, a bit rough and dry. His quills were a bit of a dull shade of blue, like the vibrance was sucked out of it, or maybe that was his natural color, I wouldn't know. It didn't look like it was. Some quills jutted out here and there, but strangely enough, the only thing that had vibrance to him, was his eyes. Like a fighting stare.

To cut the story short, he looked sick, but didn't act it. It was probably due to a large amount of blood loss that he's looked so pale and dead.

I know there is no such thing as normal, but for him, it was like he was _acting_ like he was well, but straining himself. And that wasn't normal for most people. They usually complained about this sort of thing.

Mandy was positioning us where one of my arms was hanging over the edge, touching the carpet, while the other was resting on the kid's back. He was tall enough for his head to rest on my tuft like some sort of pillow, to the side, of course. I could feel his heart beat racing next to my calm one. Heh. Felt like he was starting to panic.

I glanced up at Mandy for a moment. Her expressions normally showed what she was thinking, and right now it looked somewhere between motherly and, oddly enough, menacing. A moment later, she had disappeared into the kitchen. I could hear metal clattering against one another, and then it stopped. The feline waltzed back out, a... Butcher knife in hand?

"A prop I take it?" I had asked, practically questioning the intentions of the piece of sharpened metal.

"Yea', hold this, will you?"

I took grasp of the knife with the hand that had been over the edge, and again she started positioning the arm to an angle, sideways, as well as angling the knife to seem like I was just about to jab it into the kid's neck. Heh. Somebody had a deadly train of thought today.

Sonic's eyes opened up slightly, then his ears bent back a little at the knife being so close to his face. Curiosity killed the hedgehog, I suppose.

Now came the irritating part. Having to hold still the entire time.

Mandy picked up her sketch book and pencil, plopping back down on the stool again. "Now then, care to tell me the rest of the story."

"Oh, suuuuure," I agreed sarcastically. I let my mind roll back to then. "I guess I was just getting coffee like usual. He wasn't there before when I went in, so it must've been recent. The employee did take forever."

Sonic suddenly lifted up his head, stared at me with some surprise. "How long were you in there?"

"Hn, 10, 20 minutes I suppose?"

"Oh. Could have sworn it was longer then that."

"What was longer?"

"... The gang up."

"So there was more then one person?"

"Yeah. Like, three."

I blinked. "And your face wound...?"

"Brick wall."

"Nnnnhn," I grimaced. I pictured his face being run up and down, leaving a good amount of skin and blood. I wasn't there long enough to even notice the detail.

I didn't hear any scribbling, so I my line of sight clicked toward Mandy. "You alright?"

She had a disturbed look to her. "... Yea' I'm good. Could you... Go back into position?"

"Wha-oh. Yeah, sure." Sonic flopped back down in a not so graceful manner. I lifted my arm back up the that angle.

I continued my "story" while Mandy continued what most would call a talent. I just call it drawing. She made her comments about the story here and there.

When I had finished with the story, my arm was cramping up due to the heavy knife. It probably wasn't one of the most things I hated about posing, it was just the pains I had afterwords in certain areas of my body, which right now would probably be my arm.

"So what about the kid then?"

"A run away," I stated.

"Gotcha."

"So how long till it's finished?" I ask out of curiosity, but then again, I always ask this just to know how long I'd be laying there, standing here, sitting over there, or crouching in that spot.

"Five hours tops if I decide to shade it in."

"... Augh. You gotta be kidding me." I didn't want some gay kid flopped out on me all the while holding a _knife_ near his neck that was very much real and ready to lodge into his neck. Not that I was ready.

It was the knife part that I didn't like. I couldn't care less about the kid.

"Hey, you know how long I like to take, so don't start griping."

"Can't you skip the shading today and do that when you have some free time?"

Her eyes had never left the creation in the making, but she did pause every now and then to answer me. I could see her face scrunch up in irritation, then relax about a moment later. "... Fine. _Three_ hours."

"I can deal with that."

She smiled contently. It wasn't until Sonic started snoring that the she-cat starting laughing.

Apparently I made a better bed then my own.


	6. Oil

His face had showed up on the news a few times, reported as "missing." In fact, it had rolled on for a week. They had even put up the effort to put it in big, bold, and black letters, "_SONIC HELEN REPORTED MISSING_," with some old high school photo of him pasted right above it.

At first, The blue wonder started to panic when he found his parents gave a shit for his well being, either that, or he just didn't want to be found.

The second option sounded more probable.

The first time I saw this, I laughed both at his reaction and the "missing" report when Sonic had clearly and literally ran away with his tail between his legs. Although, his parents were probably using that as a cover-up.

"This is not _funny_," he had complained, biting at his poorly abused bottom lip like usual. Right then, he was grasping the sides of his head in a panicked train of thought, legs huddled to his chest.

Even then I was still laughing, small droplets forming at the corners of my eyes. Damn did my stomach hurt afterwords though.

I _could _feel a glare coming from him, it wasn't strong, but it was an attempted glare. A pitiful, little, _tiny_ glare pecking at the side of my head.

Both of us were sitting on the creaky old couch, watching the tellie, flipped it to the news, since shows these days were mostly for teens around the age of fourteen (meaning cheesy), when about 10 minutes into it, the story of a lifetime decided to pop up. There was a female reporter and a male reporter, the female being a bright yellow canary, and the male a spotted hyena.

"Oh, but it is," I sniggered, placing a tan hand over my mouth, while smirking of course.

"Is not," the blue wonder spat back childishly, setting down his arms over his knees.

"Really, it is."

"Well, I'm pretty sure it isn't."

"Because you're..." I paused just to make it ever so dramatic while I leaned over to him just a little, "_the_ main subject of this?"

Sonic had shifted his forehead to meet with the forearm of the topping arm in a pitiful attempt of hiding his face from me.

"... Yeah," he admitted.

"It's still funny, you know."

"Just shut up for a minute, please," Sonic whined, jerking his head to look at me grumpily.

"And why should I do that?"

"Because I said, 'please.' It's a magical word that creates miracles."

"What kind of miracles?"

"Ones that make sure I don't staple your mouth shut," he hissed, shifting his legs down to roughly greet the light brown carpeting with a rude _thunk._

"Scary."

Grumble, grumble, went the irritated hedgehog.

"Oh sorry, I don't enjoy shutting up, could you perhaps, tell me when I should?" I asked sarcastically, leaning back on the couch cushions, if you could call them cushions.

"Right now?"

"Do I have to?"

"_Yes_," Sonic insisted, crossing his arms across his chest.

I smirked, giving off one last snicker (which he twitched an eye at), and let him be for a while.

And that was probably about 10 minutes until blue decided to speak up.

"You're not going to hand me over to them, are you?"

"... Is that what you've been thinking about this entire time?" I said, looking at him with some question that I would have that to be, well, something that didn't need to be worried about.

"Not the only thing."

"Do you want to be handed over?"

Sonic decided to rest his forehead on my shoulder, then answered a faint but whiney, "No."

I learned that, after a while, he was a bit of a touchy-feely person that made contact for no reason, but I honestly didn't care.

"Then I won't," I answered just about as simply as I could. I didn't see any sense of handing over some kid who didn't want to be at that home in the first place.

Sonic tilted his head to look up at me, then he turned his head back down to look at the stained blue cushions some more. "Thanks."

"Hn," I replied quietly.

It was night time at 10 PM, into the fourth day that the kid had been staying here. He was tired, but I was wide awake. My sleep schedule was screwed up on the first day I got this apartment, and I wasn't about to go back to a normal sleep schedule. I didn't want to.

Injuries had the tendency to suck the energy out of anyone if they were serious enough. That was what was happening to the young blue here. He probably had somewhat of a normal sleep schedule too though. Sonic looked like he was about to go at any minute, with his eyelids drooping halfway like that. So I patted his cheek twice to wake him up a bit.

He lifted his head up to a point just so he could rest his chin on my shoulder.

"You gonna pass out or something?"

Sonic grunted, then yawned, "Maybe, I dunno. How long are you going to stay up?"

"A lot longer then you'll be awake," I had answered, sitting up a little more, causing Sonic to do the same so that his head didn't roll off my shoulder.

Blue started to fidget in his seat a little, removing his head from it's resting place, but he didn't say anything.

"What?" I asked, looking down at the uncomfortable male.

He bit his lip, then all together, decided to cling to my arm, still not letting a single word fall out of his mouth.

"... Seriously, what is it? You're getting attached to my arm like some frightened 5 year old."

That comment only made him hug my arm only so much tighter. I sighed. It was practically almost unnatural for a kid his age to get so clingy to a stranger he'd just met. I wanted to slap some sense into him that this was a fact. Hadn't he been taught about stranger danger when he was younger?

Still, he wasn't saying a single thing.

So I waited in silence until he decided to crack out of his egg. He didn't really take to silence all to well, I had found out. He didn't like to be in one place for a long time unless he was sleeping. Both factors were present at the moment. There was silence and stillness.

And like I predicted, he started to fidget, with his feet anyway, and finally, _finally_ decided to speak up.

What ever it was, it made him unbearably nervous.

"Can I just... Get one hug or something...?" he asked, or more like pleaded.

"Something what?"

"Just something!" he complained loudly, jerking my arm down slightly.

"You're still moody from earlier, aren't you?"

"Yes, now shut up and hug me."

I chuckle, wiggling my arm out of his grasp, then lightly hugged him. He did the same, just a lot tighter. "Gees, what's got your undies in a knot?"

"A lot of things, okay?"

"Hn."

It was one of the longest hugs I had ever given anyone, because it felt like 5 minutes had rolled by. He'd been silently gnawing on my shoulder too, which was weird, but it made him shut up for a good amount of time. Sonic's hold came loose, and maybe that was when he'd decided to let go, but he was in mid-chew and didn't back off.

"Kid?" I asked, knocking the side of my head at him.

"Hgh?" he had snorted, lifting his head up in a fast motion.

"Were you... Were you falling asleep on me?" I asked, arching a brow at him.

"That was the plan."

"Why on earth would you?"

"'Cause," he yawned widely, teeth clicking together when it had ended, "you're warm."

I chuckle somewhat at his logic.

"Can I?" he asks like he's practically five and a half.

"No."

"Why not?" Sonic whined, tightening the hug again.

"Because I have work to do."

"At this time of night?"

"Pretty much."

"What is it then?" he asked, tilting his head to look at me tiredly.

"I gotta fix my bike, tune it. Fix a couple of other motorbikes, some cars."

"You're a mechanic?"

"Yeah."

"You work night shifts?"

"And day shifts, but that's rare, normally. It only happens when we get really busy."

"Don't mechanic's get paid well?" He shifted his head to look back at what was in front of him.

"Well, yeah, most do, but I'm only a part-timer."

"So you only get paid half?"

"Pretty much."

"That kinda sucks."

"Not really."

"Not really?" he shifted himself to sit on my lap, laying both legs at both of my sides.

I pause at that movement, like he really didn't want me to leave. "... Nah, I don't like to have a whole lot of money. Dad said if you had too much, it might get to your head, or something."

"Oh." The blue wonder slumped over a little, the arms he had around my neck shifting a little bit.

"How long do are you going to hug me?" I asked, shifting back and away a little, since his legs were now starting to curve around my bum.

"As long as it takes for you to stay."

"I'm gonna go wether you like it or not."

"No, you're not," he complained, tightening the hug even more so.

"Yeah, I kind have to if I want to stay in this place."

He yelled something into my shoulder angrily, then groaned. I had to give it to him, he sure did know how to try to get his way, but he wasn't going to succeed. I was going to get him off wether the blue wonder liked it or not.

"_Staaaaay_," he pleaded childishly.

"I can't."

"Please?"

"No, Sonic, now let go," I hissed angrily, trying to pull him off.

"No."

"Now, Sonic."

"But I don't want to."

"You're gonna to have to," I growled, unwrapping my arms, using them to push the ignorant blue thing away.

"No."

"Yes," I growled again, shoving at him, rather then pushing.

"Noooo!"

"Quit sounding like I'm going to rape you and let go!" I yelled, my temper just building up by the seconds. The damn blue bastard had a grip like a gorilla.

The kid shouted something else in my shoulder. Something along the lines of, "Auuuugh, don't want my bed to go!"

I frowned at that, but decided to play stupid. "You don't want what to go?"

"You."

"Why is that?" Really. Why did he not want me to go so badly anyway?

"Just because," he said bluntly.

"... You know, you are making no sense right now. Just let go already," I sighed, giving him one final shove. Like he'd budge. "Am I gonna have to carry you to work or something?"

"Maybe," he said almost flatly, shifting a little bit, since hunching over wasn't exactly a comfortable position.

"Augh..." I groaned, practically going limp, all the while plopping my head on the kid's shoulder.

"You've carried me before, haven't you?"

I rolled my head up to look at the dull walls of my apartment. "Well, yeah, but that time I kinda had to. This time, however, you actually want me to carry you, am I right?"

"Yeah."

"You know you're heavy as hell, right?"

"... No?"

"Which means yes in idiot language," I sarcastically stated, all the while thinking that if I was going to get him off, without any violence of course, anytime soon, even if I was tempted to knock him into next Tuesday right now, that sounded like the best option just to bring hm with me. The kid would just have to settle for having to wait on some sort of stool.

"I'm not an idiot."

"Well, you sure as hell are acting like one." I rapidly shoved my hands under his bum (which he tensed at), got up slowly, lifting him up with me, until I was standing.

"Wait, wait, you're actually bringing me with you?" he questioned, amazed and confused at my choice of actions. He had leaned back a bit, with his arms still around my neck, looking at me with a curious stare.

"You weren't planning on letting me go, right?" I started walking to the door.

"No..."

"Then yes, as a matter of fact, I am bringing you with me." I reached for the door knob with one hand, opening the door quickly to a hall way with grey carpeting, white walls, and a view with railing, so that you could peer at the city buildings, watch the cars go by, people walk along the streets, and some times, watch an occasional lightening storm that came around every so often, purple electricity cracking through the air.

On those nights when it did rain with lightening, I'd reach out with my hands to feel the large rain drops splatter onto my hands, but right now, all you could see were city lights accompanied with the black sky and it's pale golden moon. You couldn't see any stars, which was a pity.  

Closing the door and locking it, I went for the elevator. It was one of those shiny metal ones. There were two white buttons, the big black arrows starting to rub off of them. I jabbed at the one that was pointing downwards. It lit up to be a faded orange.

The elevator made a clunking noise when it started to pull up the small room space. It looked like it could carry about six or seven people, but if you tried really hard to make space, you could probably fit ten. I was in one of those situations where it was full with so many people, you'd be quite literally, pressed up against the walls of the elevator with a hot temperature due to the overwhelming body heat.

After a couple of experience like that, I didn't really like to be in small places, much less crowds. You felt like you were enclosed in this tiny box, like some sort of doll along with a couple of other models just like you. It felt freakish and something to be scared of.

The damned thing had finally opened after just about a minute of heavy waiting. I walked in. It wasn't one of those elevators with the cheesy music. All you heard was something that was related to an old refrigerator buzzing, along with more clunking. That kind of music was for the expensive buildings that had both bad taste and money. This place had neither. It was just plain colorless and cracking to boot.

The kid was silent, strangely enough. I hadn't heard a peep out of him since we'd left the apartment. He'd been looking around, taking the surroundings in, too busy to even speak. Hm, pity.

When this damned old thing had reached the last floor, I knew full well that this was going to be an aggravatingly long night.

One that would need a shit load of sleep.

* * *

_A/N: I believe this is the first fan fiction and Author's note I have done. XD' _

_I will be answering any questions that you have for this story. I thank you for reading to this point. I'm glad that I have interested you enough to read this far._

_Reviews are quite welcomed, and so is criticism._

_Please review, otherwise I have absolutely no idea wether or not ANYBODY liked the chapter or not. .A._


	7. Hemoglobin

If there was ever a night that I would have called the most irritating, it would have been this one.

Because _he_ was sleeping on my shoulder that he seemed to have such an attachment to for whatever the reason, I had no idea.

Because _HE_ decided to drool all over my favorite jacket. God, I hope he doesn't drool all over my pillows too.

And this last little detail that just made the situation all the better. He decided to waste all of what was left of his energy to come with and pass out half way through the drive. A limp body didn't just magically stay erect when you're turning, so you had to use a scarf to tie his hands together so that the arms were forcefully wrapped around oneself waist.

And if that didn't make the night ever so lovely in every point, there was a bug splat all over my forehead, which the guts of that precise bug was either probably the color of a brown or yellow, but I didn't want to be in an accident while trying to figure out the pigment of the bug that just so decided to land it's suicidal body on _my _forehead on _this _night. It didn't sound like something that was worth the effort or patience to deal with.

It was about a 30 minute drive to my work place from my apartment, but that was the time when there wasn't a geezer that decided he wanted to drive about half the speed of the limit on the goddamned highway which held up about a fifty or so car lineup and you couldn't just turn to the next lane, because you somehow knew that it was just as congested as the one you were on. Then I had to deal with the sound of car engines that sounded like they were about to blow a gasket in the next day or two, because the owner of that car was stupid enough not to notice that the sound of the running engine sounded way off, and that bugged the hell out me, even worse when I had to deal with that sort of sound for probably maybe 20 minutes just because the damned geezer in the _way, way _front of the traffic jam decided that, _no, no,_ lets drive 10 miles per hour and hold up the goddamned traffic forever.

Oh, and the very, _very_ loud honking horns that I swore could have torn off my ears if they could blare_ any_ louder.

I had to deal with this sort of crap since I was sixteen and I still wasn't used to, and I know I never I will.

Thankfully though, it wasn't one of those nights where it wasn't congested like that. Otherwise I would have been screaming. Due to road rage.

Stopping at a red light, I began wiping off bug guts from my forehead with my gloved (but sadly fingerless gloved) hands. I would have hurled right then and there if the guts could have felt any slimier. It was like it decided to eat a worm before killing itself on me.

It was in the middle of September, and around here, it was practically almost winter, except it wasn't snowing, but it was just about as cold. Really, it was in the middle of a freakishly cold fall, how it didn't snow in this temperature amazed me, because, instead of snow, you got bone chilling rain that just loved to drone on you like an orchestra full of drums and cymbals. It woke you up with a shake, then carried on a long time after so that soon, you just got used to it, but it took a while, and then you were miserable with a cold afterwords.

Oh no, it wasn't raining, but was cold, and that just made the drooling situation all the more delightful to deal with, because now with the drool, my shoulder felt like an ice cube that was put in an ice tray about 30 minutes ago, and was just about done freezing all the way.

I was almost there. Just. Almost there with 5 minutes to go. Then I could go into a slap happy session with this kid's face, and I wasn't gonna give a damn no matter how sleepy he was, or how injured his face was right now, or in the five minutes later when I got there. It would still be in the same condition like right now for a good couple of days, or a week or two, if even. The slapping frenzy was probably going to open up the wound, but like I mentioned earlier, I wasn't going to care.

What's more, I didn't have the slightest clue on where to put a sleeping gay guy when:

A, you worked at a mechanic shop where the costumer drove in the car and left it there.

B, there was practically no relatively soft surfaces you could put him on.

C, the floor didn't sound sanitary to even sit on since most of us used cat litter to soak up oil spills and the such.

D, the workspace you were in was practically a large sized garage, and stools were probably about the _only_ clean surface to sit on, much less rest on.

So exactly what was I to do with this guy? Keep him awake the entire time I had to be there, working on a car by screaming, honking, drilling, and just about any loud sound I could use to keep him awake. It would certainly blow off some steam by yelling at a guy who might fall over at any given moment.

After the slapping session anyway.

First I had to deal with the other mechanics and their questions to why the hell there was a fucking teenager attached to you and why you just couldn't simply leave him at home.

Well, gee. Why _couldn't _I have just left him at home? Because I love the kid too much to do so? Yeah, go chew on your balls some more and think of a more hilarious reason to why before I tell you. I bet you'll just fucking laugh off your chewed up balls that I bet wouldn't even be able to work anymore. It would do me a huge favor if you did just that, and if your balls do fall off, _I'll _be laughing.

Driving into a parking slot, I cut the engine, then turn around to face the sleeping idiot, all the while standing up slowly, untying the scarf ever so gently, and then him crumple to the concrete all the same.

"Ow," complained the idiot in blue fur about a moment later, since it took him that long just to wake up to cold, bumpy, and painfully rocky surface under him.

I looked down at him to find this expression on his face like a kid that was just shaken awake with locks of hair sticking out as if some sort of invisible hand was pulling at it, all the while agitating his present mood further, since he was pouting, squinting, and bunching his eyebrows together all at the same time.

Last time I checked, that was an expression of a PMSing Mandy.

And there was that fact that he was sitting like a grumpy kid too, pulling his legs apart into a V, and his hands were flat on the pavement in between those legs. There was also a slight hunch to his sitting posture.

"C'mon kid, get up," I almost commanded, offering him a hand.

Deciding he'd rather glare at it like he was about to spit at it, sat on the same cold spot for about a minute before grabbing my hand.

I would have thought he was gonna go into a temper tantrum for waking him up or something.

"Gees, how old are you, five?" I asked, arching a brow when he decided to join me at my own height, sorta.

"Seventeen," he hissed back through his teeth.

"You know how much of a lie that sounds right now?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure I'm seventeen," he hissed through his teeth again, and began to make his way to the wrong building.

I guess that was my cue to start walking towards the _right _building.

Thankfully, the blue kid turned around to look if I was following, which I wasn't, and then spotted me to be walking towards the mechanic shop, rather then the gas station right next to it. So he stopped in his tracks and quickened his pace to catch up with me.

I probably would have snickered at that if I wasn't in such a foul mood.

The place was a small brick building, which was fairly new to a point. It wasn't falling over, and the roof was not about to cave in. It was quite far from that. The place was probably about 10 or 20 years old, give or take. A sign in red lettering stood in front of the building, rather then being slapped right above the door, which was odd, but I didn't think much of it. It read, "Auto Repair Drive-in" with an equally red line under it. Sometimes that name reminded me of a Diner for some reason.

Surrounding this building was a good couple of cars and motorcycles, though rarely there'd be a dinky little moped amongst all of those beasts. Kind of like how you'd see an antelope slowly being surrounded by a group of lions on a nature channel, or at least thats what it seemed to be to me, since oddly enough the moped was usually in the middle.

When you push open the back door, there was no bell, no buzzer, just a freakishly loud creak that lasted just as long as you opened the door. It was something that I found to be creepy, but after working here for who knows how long, it became one of those things that just faded into the background. The garage was somewhat messy, like a wrench there on the floor, or a couple of bolts and screws scattered across the room in a range of sizes. If it wasn't for that neat freak of a fox, it would have probably been a pigsty in here.

There was a great big, red tool box on a steel table that held a good amount of the tools, but in there, it only held a wide variety of wrenches, and wrenches only. Those were held in place with a black foam-like substance. There were a couple other tool boxes around here, but they were placed in different spots, all red.

Five people worked here, me included. There was that red fox with the tail mutation, or deformity, I wasn't quite too sure, but because of that mutation, he took up the nickname of Tails. Most of us called him that, but I went with his actual name, Miles. He was the youngest out of all of us, being that he was around sixteen. He says he's eighteen, but the kid is just too short for me to believe it.

Next came this big, bulky black and white whippet with his left ring finger missing, and the pinky of that hand hacked off half way like he had a bad accident with a knife of some sort, and it looked like it too, because the way it was chopped off was a bit diagonal, starting at the base of the ring finger, then going up through the pinky. It was kind of weird trying to watch this little stubble move along with what was left of his fingers. We all called him Big John.

Then there was the only female out of all of us, and probably the loudest. She could yell easily over a drill, a tire pump, anything. Like Mandy, she was a cat, but brown and white, with the world's worst temper. She was Hope, she was tiny, but good god, sometimes, she was worse then the firecracker that exploded in your face when you thought it was a dud. Both of her ears had chips in them, but the right one had such a big chunk taken out of the tip, it looked more like a V then anything else.

Lastly, there was this almost freakishly green hawk with an attitude about as high as he could fly. It's like he squawked half his life away with insults about as bad as his repairing, because almost every time he did on a car or motorcycle, the same one would come back in an even worse condition about one or two weeks later. Which was utter bull shit, but at least I get a bigger paycheck them him because of it, since I was usually stuck with fixing it.

For some reason, I had this feeling that the kid wasn't going to like Jet very much.

If you took a glance at the group of us, you may have thought that we were the grouchiest bunch in the city, since the only person here that smiled most of the time was Jet. Big John didn't smile in front of people he didn't know, Hope only smiled half the time, Miles was usually too busy to ever look happy, since he was always so concentrated on something else, and I just didn't smile, period. If you got to know us a little more though, we were just a bunch of goofs with oil and grease smeared all over our faces.

So who was here at the moment? Just Miles, sitting on a stool with a wrench and some sort of mechanism, and Big John, working on a car that looked like it just had a meeting with a street poll.

Sonic, who was still behind me, all the sudden decided that he wanted to take in one large, loud breath into his nose. Both me and Miles had to turn our heads just to see what was up with the kid when, he sneezed twice into my face.

My left eye gave off a twitch at that.

By then, Big john had rolled out from under the car, looking like he was about to crack open one of the biggest, low bellowing laughs I would hear out of him yet. He may look aggressive at first glance, being that he had these bulging muscles _everywhere,_ but he laughed the most out of all of us, Jet being a close second, Hope sliding into third place, and then me being fourth. I don't think I've ever saw Miles even snicker.

So what as that freakishly muscular mutt doing right then? He's laughing, of course. I then glance over at Miles, his expression looking like he was absolutely disgusted by the fact that there were now germs in the air and on my face, so he's reaching over to the wipes dispenser and walking over to me, all the while eyeing the culprit.

Oh, I guess I forgot to mention, Miles wasn't only a neat freak, but a germaphobic too. Not that he showed it too much anyway, but I had my guesses.

So why on earth did he choose a job like this when it was probably the messiest in town? Well, simple. He enjoyed working with cars and the such just as much as the rest of us.

"Thanks," I said, pulling one out and then started wiping my face off.

This is where I took note that now, Sonic was glaring at Miles, while Miles was just staring back at him out of curiosity. Miles wasn't the type to talk unless someone else started it. So I started it.

"Sonic, Miles, Miles, Sonic," I introduced almost too formally, but I don't think either one of them would have given a damn.

So Miles outstretched a friendly hand and smiled this innocent smile I honestly don't think I've seen out of him as long as I've worked here.

I would have thought that he would have swatted it away with the mood he was in, but he shook it, and even returned the smile with a toothy one.

And then Big John cracked open another batch of laughs before wrapping a friendly arm around both mine and the kid's shoulders.

Sonic's smile kind of morphed into a nervous one, since now there were these great big muscles in his face that looked like they could break him as if he were nothing more then a piece of glass.

They probably could, but I don't think Big John had enough of a heart to even try.

"So, is this the kid I've been seeing so much on the News?" he asked, looking down at me, all the while smiling a shit eating smile.

I was used to his overly friendliness, smirked then answered him with a, "Yeah."

That just made his shit eating grin all the shittier(wider). "Well now, I hope you didn't kidnap him, did you?"

I laughed a little then said, "Nah man, I found him on the side of a coffee shop."

"What, like an abandoned puppy?"

"Augh, I'm not a puppy," he grumped, folding his arms across his chest and pouted.

That just made me and Big John laugh all the more, while Miles had a smile on him, shaking his head, and arching a brow. Like he was amused, but had to question our intentions.

"Yeah, bruised and bloodied too."

"Guess that explains the fuck load of bandages," he commented, looking over at the grump to his left, frowning a little.

"Bruised and bloodied...?"

I guess I hadn't noticed back then, but Miles had this habit of standing there, waiting for a little more information that either I, or somebody else to spit out, so he'd just stand there and stare at you for god knows how long until heard what he wanted to know.

"Yeah, bruised and bloodied," I repeated.

But I guess I was too naive even then to notice that detail.

He started to squint his eyes to a point where almost every wrinkle possible was visible on his face, and then he bunched his nonexistent eyebrows together, like he wanted to have a unibrow or somethin', then the front ends would curve up only slightly, then his mouth would hang open only slightly in a strange pout.

To cut the long string short, he looked about as damned worried as a mother would when her kid had been missing for a week, and still missing.

This is were the screaming comes in.

Because when you saw that pout turn into a snarl, you know something's coming.

"The hell did you do, man?" he started out, surprisingly quiet.

I don't think the blue wonder would have answered that quickly. I wouldn't have either.

Miles never liked waiting, so he repeated himself after about 10 seconds later, "What the hell did you do?" with a little bit more volume this time. I swear that fox acted like a mother sometimes.

"R-ran away from home...?" he finally blurted out, looking a bit bewildered and scared at the same time.

"And then got his dumb ass mugged in the process," I finished, smirking a little when he sent me a panicky glare towards my direction. Being able to see out of the corner of your eye was great sometimes.

The fox's eyes clicked from him to me while I spoke, and he probably wasn't expecting me to say a single thing while he picked and prodded the blue freak to my far right.

A few seconds passed before the two tailed man let out what seemed to be a held in breath, like he was trying to absorb the last bits of oxygen it had, but I don't think that was the reason why.

"Come on, lets replace those bandages," he said almost roboticly, motioning his hand for Sonic to follow.

Back when, before he got this job, he had been studying to become a doctor, like the ones where they just simply check you when you were ill. Turns out though, he had mistakenly gotten the classes that involved surgery and the like, back in high school that is. It was probably a data misplacement, so he didn't get the proper classes he needed. The kid would have taken up the job anyway, if it wasn't for the fact that he was terrified by the sight of blood. Well, he wouldn't throw up at the sight of just a little, only a whole lot when it came out gushing.

It was one of those fears where you could take it a little at a time, but not all at once.

I don't think he told me why he had that kind of fear as long as I knew him. He was kind of secretive like that.

I guess I hadn't replaced his bandages in a couple of days, and Miles had noticed. I didn't have a whole lot of medical equipment after replacing Sonic's bandages twice now, so the third time around, I'd probably have to go buy some more.

In a couple of days anyway.

* * *

_I apologize for the long wait. I kept on getting stuck on parts here and there, and had to think it over for a couple of nights before editing it again._

_So I guess like usual, read, review. Critiques are encouraged. _


	8. Oxygen

**Sweet Valentine Vampire: **I guess I would be distracted a little, but I always enjoyed putting in those small, almost unnecessary details that bug a good chunk of people, but I like to make it more like you're there with them, like you were one of those costumers in that particular coffee shop and just taking a glance at the small but noticeable details of what you might see when he walks in. Rookie move? Yeah, probably. I'd just have to edit out what may seem a little too much, I might do that. Awkward? Mmm... Just a little but thank you for pointing that out. I'll try not to do that in future chapters. If I can, I don't know. I normally can't honestly tell when it becomes "awkward." And if that's what it is, then I'll just need a load more of experience. Which I do.

All and all, thank you for the well thought critique, this is something I have been looking for.

**NCHLS YZHV: **One of the best? Glad to hear it. Although I don't think I've ever heard of The Velvet Underground, but I get where you're going. I guess I'd tune out the flaws too, but when I'm sitting there and reading it for a while, the flaws are just screaming at me sometimes.

There are probably two reasons why this hasn't gotten a whole bunch of reviews, one being that the previous chapters were updated so quickly, I don't think I gave much time for others to even read the story before putting in yet another chapter. And two, because a good chunk of readers enjoy fuckloads of drama, whereas I just absolutely hate it when things get too dramatic, and therefore gets boring when there's just WAY WAY too much going on.

* * *

It had been one week and a half since I took him in, and while we were developing into the second week, all the sudden he'd just get a burst of energy, like it had been holing itself into his gut for the past week, ready to spring at any given time.

He may be seventeen, but he still acted like a 7 year old hyped up on chocolate bars he'd just recently found stashed away somewhere he'd forgotten to look when he'd hid them and forgot about them there after.

Because during that second week, all he wanted to do was run. Run around the apartment, down the hallways out of the apartment, and pretty much anywhere else he could bound down in under one minute and back without being seen by anyone else.

Not that he'd put much thought into that, anyway. Since, "Anywhere else he could run without being seen" was the entire apartment building. I could tell he wanted out badly, since he kept on glancing at the door that led to the outside, and outside to him meant freedom. It was like there were chains bound to his wrists and ankles that were only long enough to keep him in and not out. The only thing that was keeping him from that so called freedom, was the fact that he had the chance of being brought back to _there_.

So, seeing that torture, decided to bring him with me when it was about time I went to the market to pick up some food and even more bandages. When I told him that, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree with all those different colored lights.

Now I know I'm not much of a nice guy, but seeing him so perky, with him asking if he can have that can of chili, or if we could get this many packs of sugar. Hell, he even asked if we could get almost every single flavor of poptarts. _Poptarts_. I of course, laughed at that last request, but I was smiling the day away when he was zipping around the store.

It wasn't until we got to the front of the place when I heard Sonic's name screeched at the top of some girl's lungs like she was trying to upchuck her lungs in the process.

The next thing I knew, I was seeing this huge flash of pink and red tackle the kid to the ground, and Sonic screaming something remotely to, 'Ameh!'

I put a hand to my mouth, pausing for a moment just to stare at the poor kid, who was getting suffocated with a hug that looked like it hurt. With him, it probably hurt even worse with all of those wounds still healing.

Heh, fangirls. Even gay guys had them.

"Ohmigosh, I missed you so much, Sonikku!" the fangirl in freaking red squealed.

"Augh! Amy, get off!" he wailed in a high pitched, sort of panicky voice while the creature called 'Amy' (I think), tried to push her way through two of his hands that blocked off the thing's target.

"But I haven't seen you in so long, Sonikkuuu..." she cooed, pausing in her pursuit for just a moment, "can't I get just _one_ out of yooou?"

"No!" he screamed, pushing at her face, er, lips a little farther away.

"But I haven't seen you in weeks, Soniiii, can't I have just one kiss?"

This is where I bursted out laughing, because that was one of the most cheesiest things I've even heard out of anyone I've known, and I don't even know this chick.

She turned her head, since she hadn't noticed me till now, looking at me like she's got a question welding up in her head, and then she decides, rather then looking confused, glared at me when I wasn't done laughing after about 30 seconds later. I swear it's like she jumped out of a crappy cheerleader movie or something.

When Sonic mouthed out the words, 'Help me,' that just made my laughter all the worse. It seriously made me feel like I was right in the middle of a drama, and holy _fuck_ on bed sheets was it funny.

So while I was recovering from a laugh attack, the pink thing had got up, brushed herself off, and cracked a slap on my face right after my last chuckle fell out of my mouth and splat all over the floor along with a couple of spit droplets.

God ew. I think I just got a whiff of bad perfume.

"Jesus woman, what pissed on you?" I asked, plugging my nose and wrinkling it at the same time, since she acted and smelled like it.

Her jaw suddenly tightened up while the rest of her face screwed up into a scowl. And her lipstick man. The color reminded me of something my grandma used to wear when she was still alive.

"What pissed on me? Why are you laughing?" she had retorted back at me. If the pink thing was a she. Her chest was about as flat as road kill, so I wasn't quite sure if it were a drag queen dressed in a skirt and a spaghetti strap top, or if it really was a female.

"I dunno, maybe it's because you tried to rape my roomie in the middle of a store?" I retorted back. The slap on my cheek was starting to sting, but just a little. She, he, or it didn't really have much strength in it's arms.

Amy's cheeks puffed up like well, two Puffer fish, and then came out with a, "I was not trying to rape him, I was greeting him!" that bursted out of it's mouth.

"Says the transvestite who molested the wounded," I frowned almost seriously.

I found it odd that people could be drawn to things like drama, because we were getting at least ten pairs of eyes on us.

Not like I cared enough. I was enjoying this.

Amy glared at me because maybe I just hit the nail on the head. "And what makes you think I'm a transvestite?" it growled, flashing some faintly yellow teeth at me.

"Well, your bod is kind of screaming it, _hun_."

"It does not!" it boomed, slowly getting louder with each sentence that flew out of it's mouth.

I yawned sarcastically and it just fumed some more toxic gas out of it's nose. I could imagine sparkling purple gas spew right out of the drama queer's nose right there and then.

I glanced down at the spiky blue kid, strangely enough, he was still sitting on the white linoleum, watching the drama light itself in Amy's eyes. To tell you the truth, I think it's fuse is about to end and the dynamite explode quite well, along with some gasoline lacing it just to make the ka-boom all the more exciting to watch.

But all the while, you pray to dear god you don't get burned while watching, because you're the one who's experimenting with that particular dynamite stick.

Amy followed my line of sight the moment I'd looked away from it, eyebrows jumping up when the kid was still sitting in the same spot that he'd been forcefully put in. I think that little detail just coated the dynamite stick of angry with gun powder.

And what did the kid do? He crossed his arms and gave Amy a light but meaningful glare. He didn't get up or nothing. Hell, he even leaned back into the check out machine, relaxing a bit against it, and _smirked._ Like he was happy that Amy was getting an earful.

The pink hedgehog bit the corner of it's lip, trying like hell not to scream anything else when it finally noticed all the eyes. It was utter silence. There was no beeping, no grocery bags shifting around, no voices. Only the hum of the lights above, which was getting irritatingly louder when the time slowly plinked by.

Sonic's smirk evolved into a smile.

Then Amy stepped forward once, squinting it's eyes at me with utter hate-oh no wait-_loathing, _hands clenching. "Do not even _think_ for a moment that I have forgotten this," Amy hissed. Amy then slogged out the door, cheap flip flops mercilessly stomping onto the equally cheap looking floor.

Sonic's smile grew into a grin.

I looked over at my "roomie" and the second our eyes connected, we bowled over with laughter like there was no tomorrow. I had to lean on a fucking magazine rack just so I wouldn't fall over. Yeah, we looked like jerks, but I had fun with it, and he was laughing out half of his lung on the ground. It was good to see the kid coming around.

We wiped our tears of hysteria, Sonic grinning like his teeth were the crescent of the moon itself.

I sighed loudly and pleasantly, still leaning against the magazine rack, crossing my arms, staring straight at the blue wonder, smiling humorously. I don't think I've laughed this much in such a long while.

"Alright kid, lets get our groceries and stop stalling the other civilians," I joked, holding out a hand for Sonic to grasp, which he did.

My offered hand was covered in sickeningly red lipstick afterwords.

Of course, I laughed at that too.

* * *

_I giggled a little while typing this. I seriously giggled horribly while typing this and I have absolutely no idea why. _

_So without a further ado, read, review, and always remember that critiques are quite welcomed, no matter how harsh, but please spare me the flaming. _

_Because nobody likes a flamer. Especially me. 3_


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